


Fang of the Dragon

by Lokne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Magic, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Genderswap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship, Protectiveness, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), marriage ritual, sentient magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokne/pseuds/Lokne
Summary: The rules for the Triwizard Tournament were ridiculous and so convoluted that it had taken her all night to read the single page—though admittedly it was four feet long and written in Old English. Whose brilliant idea was that? How could someone find a loophole in the rules if every other sentence didn’t make sense and contradicted the one four lines down?
Relationships: Charlie Weasley/Female Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 618





	Fang of the Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> A repost of an old fic of mine.

The rules for the Triwizard Tournament were ridiculous and so convoluted that it had taken her all night to read the single page—though admittedly it was four feet long and written in Old English. Whose brilliant idea was that? How could someone find a loophole in the rules if every other sentence didn’t make sense and contradicted the one four lines down? 

Harriet glared at the piece of parchment with loathing. Some of the rules didn’t even apply anymore because a different rule sanctioned a decade later cancelled it out! It was a pathetic attempt to force everyone to participate in the deadly tournament. But then, how many entered in the tournament actually want to back out? None. They willingly put their name in the Goblet and  _ wanted _ to be selected! 

Harriet had assumed that Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would give her the rules, because she had no idea what was permitted and what wasn’t allowed. She had never heard of the Triwizard Tournament before this year, so she hadn’t thought to read up on it like she had every other pureblood tradition and custom she was able to get her hands on. 

They never did. 

Dumbledore had given some stupid speech about it not being her fault, yadda yadda yadda. Harriet knew it wasn’t her fault! If the rest of the school didn’t believe it then they could suck a lemondrop. Harriet knew the truth and that was well enough with her. After two more days of waiting for them to give a sign or advice, she took matters into her own hands and grabbed every book in the library that mentioned the tournament. She had spent days reading through old tomes and textbooks in a small, hidden alcove in the library where she wouldn’t be disturbed.

When Madam Pince realized what she was doing, the librarian immediately directed her to the Restricted Section (Harriet had always been her favorite) and the book that contained everything she needed to know. Apparently it was forbidden to try and get out of a tournament that could cause death, go figure. So far, Harriet wasn’t that impressed with the magical world, and her opinion of it had taken another dive as she read the rules.

Written in the tiniest scribble she had ever seen was the loophole she had been looking for all night. It had taken her almost an hour to decipher the text that looked more like a Rorschach blots test than legible words. Harriet wondered if the person writing the rule thought that it would genuinely help someone, or if they were laughing at the thought of someone doing something so drastic. Harriet figured it was the latter. The magical world was a screwed up place at times.

Dumbledore only taught light magic at Hogwarts, and yet he was using a dark magic contract to hold a tournament and send four people to their deaths. The only person who had a minute chance of winning the entire thing was Viktor Krum and that was because he actually knew dark magic from Durmstrang! Cedric would probably die during the First Task, as she would if she didn’t use the loophole.

Dark magic was more powerful than light magic. It was a fact. The sky was blue, Dumbledore had horrible taste in robes, and light magic was weak. It was probably the reason why the Slytherins look constipated all of the time. They weren’t able to use dark magic at school. Frankly, if she could choose between learning dark curses and spells that would help her murder the freak that had killed her parents, and learning how to float a feather, she’d choose killing someone. Hands down, no questions asked.

Harriet couldn’t think of a single time in her life when she would need to know how to float a feather. Unless she dropped her pillow, but then she would just pick it up without using her wand. Really people, it wasn’t that hard.

Harriet didn’t know much about Fleur, other than the fact that she loved making hormonal men drool and act like morons. Maybe that was her special power, being a veela, and the blonde hoped it would help her. Harriet thought it was useless. Beauty wouldn’t stop an Acromantula or Dementor from eating your face. But apparently if you were bonded before the First Task, it would.

If she were bonded before the First Task—Harriet still had no idea what it would be—then she would be exempt. It would once again be the Triwizard Tournament. Four books in a series was a quartet, not a trilogy, just like four people in a  _ Tri _ wizard Tournament meant illegal and suspicious activity was going down. They just decided it was easier to blame her instead of an outside party . . . like for instance Voldemort! He was dead, right? There was no way he tried to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, opened the Chamber of Secrets, or made everyone believe that Sirius Black betrayed her parents. Nope. It was all Harriet’s fault, because she wanted the money and glory.

Why were people so dumb? 

Harriet snorted and reread the loophole for what felt like the tenth time—it probably was. So the only way to get out of the contract was if she bonded with someone. Harriet couldn’t think of anyone she would willingly attach herself to for the rest of her life. They had to be powerful enough to override the contract on her magic, which meant that a light wizard was absolutely out of the question. Draco Malfoy was a complete git. Theodore Nott wasn’t attractive in the least, and Blaise Zabini was intended to a fourth-year Ravenclaw that loved reading the _ Rogue _ —a witch fashion magazine—during class.

But maybe if he was older then it wouldn’t matter! No, too fat. Eh, he had bad hygiene. Nope. He talked too much about his pet crup, and he was horrible in almost all of the subjects. She continued to run through a list of possible candidates and dismissed them one after the other. They didn’t feel right.

_ “You know who to ask.” _

Harriet rolled her eyes at the voice. If she knew, she would have already done it. Sometimes her magic’s voice annoyed her when it pretended to know things she didn’t. There was no way her magic knew the perfect person to bond with. Unless someone had caught her magic’s attention. . . . Hmm. There’s a thought. Who had her magic paid attention to more this week? No one. Great! There goes that brilliant idea.

Harriet ignored Granger’s chatter as she got ready for breakfast. Would the girl never shut up? Harriet loved to learn new things, but Granger didn’t have to lecture everyone while they were getting dressed. Who cared that Sir Reginald of Whittingham was knighted by the Muggle Queen of England because he discovered a cure to some obscure illness. She was trying to get the wrinkles out of her robes because she forgot to hang them up the night before. 

Harriet sighed as she quickly left the room. It never took her very long to get ready in the morning. She fixed her hair, brushed her teeth, and got dressed for the day. While the other girls primped in front of the bathroom mirror and used makeup and glamours, Harriet didn’t need the extra help to look fabulous—she was born with it.

“Rough morning?”

_ “Ask him!” _

Harriet shook off the voice and laughed. “You have no idea.” She fell into place between Fred and George Weasley. They didn’t mind her when she was snarky or spacey when she talked with her magic. They seemed to take it in stride and had become fast friends. They were two people that she could tolerate, and she wouldn’t give them up. “Did you know that at least five people wrote the rules for the tournament? Not only was it a mess of scribbles, but I think I found part of an essay—it blabbered on about ancient battle rights and rescuing maidens. It was  _ fascinating _ .” 

“It does sound riveting, doesn’t it, George?” Fred asked. George nodded as they ignored the piercing glare she sent them.

“I lost sleep, precious sleep, which could have been used dreaming about ways to torment Dumbledore. But the night wasn’t completely worthless. I was able to find a loophole. Amid the useless information, combined with a coded handwriting that could barely be deciphered, I found my way to freedom. Freedom—sounds amazing, doesn’t it?” 

Harriet laughed at the students that parted before them. They were valiantly  _ trying _ to snub her and show her how much they hated the trick she had done, but it was too amusing. Did they really think that she cared what they thought? Harriet had stopped caring about the opinions of others when Dudley shoved her to the ground and she released the snake from the zoo. Sure Dudley had been stuck in a glass snake habitat for an hour while they cut a hole in the glass large enough to remove him, but the satisfaction she had gained from seeing his terror went much further than that one act.

When Hagrid showed up a few days later telling her that she was a witch, she had jumped at the chance to learn more magic and become great. If she had known that she would be learning how to change a matchstick into a needle and open doors without a key, she would have chosen a different school. But it was too late now. Dumbledore wouldn’t let her leave, and Sirius was somewhere—hiding, knowing him—until Dumbledore told him it was safe. She sneered at the thought. Yes, Sirius had broken out of Azkaban for her and she was extremely grateful—the thought of a man posing as a rat and living near her was revolting—but she hadn’t heard from him since that night. He essentially abandoned her and she was once again left on her own. She was used to it.

“Bonding. I have to be bonded before the First Task. Know any powerful and handsome wizards looking to get hitched?”

The twins shared a long look and chorused, “Charlie.”

_ “Yes! Him!” _

Charlie? Ah, right. He was the dragon keeper who lived in Romania. He came and got Norberta—poor Hagrid had been devastated to hear Norbert was a girl—after Hagrid had illegally hatched a dragon in his shack. Which, by the way, was not a good idea. Not only did the dragon set Hagrid’s beard on fire, but she also almost burnt down his house. The dragon had been the size of a small dog by the time Charlie showed up, and Harriet knew it wouldn’t have been long before it was big enough to swallow his ‘mother’. Harriet wouldn’t want that on anyone’s conscience. Also, the thought of something eating Hagrid was disgusting. He was very hairy.

“Am I supposed to Floo to Romania?” she asked sarcastically. If her magic said that Charlie would be a good choice, she believed it. But she had a deadline to meet. Less than three days to the First Task and she didn’t know if she wanted to spend those three days gallivanting about the Romanian countryside in search of a dragon preserve. Though maybe she would anyway. There was a test in Potions tomorrow. She could afford to skip it.

“He’s here for the First Task. He arrived yesterday.”

Well, now she knew what the First Task would entail. Dragons. Why else would Dumbledore ask a dragon keeper to come? Did the other contestants know? Eh, it would be their fault for being unobservant. It didn’t really matter anyway.

“Would it be weird if I asked him to bond with me because I don’t want to die?” Harriet asked.

Fred winced at her wording. “Try to sound less desperate.”

Harriet stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t bring up my imminent death should he refuse. Got it.” She rolled her eyes at their expressions. She wasn’t going to force Charlie to bond with her, but he really was her only chance for survival. 

“We’ll let him know you want to talk to him. Do it after curfew, though. You don’t want Dumbledore knowing you’re trying to get out of it.”

Harriet scowled. Of course Dumbledore wouldn’t want her to be free. She knew he wasn’t manipulative enough to submit her name, but she had no doubt that Dumbledore wanted her to compete so he could find out who had done it. She wasn’t willing, though. It wasn’t hard to think of Voldemort’s name. Yeah, he probably had a servant do it for him because he was currently a puddle of goo, but she needed to think about getting out of the tournament first, and then think about taking revenge on the guy who kept trying to ruin her life. Harriet couldn’t kill someone if she was already dead. You would think he would get tired of it already. Getting defeated by a baby was humiliating, but being unable to kill her three times was pathetic. 

The Slytherins and half of the school were wearing ‘Potter Stinks’ badges. It was  _ very  _ original and it  _ hurt _ her feelings, so much that she hexed Malfoy in the middle of the hall and blamed it on Ron Weasley. Ron Weasley who had fired off a curse, though it hadn’t been anywhere near Malfoy, gladly took the credit. 

Harriet just wanted the day to be over already. During the last few days her mind had been so occupied on finding the stupid loophole that she hadn’t paid attention to the terror that had taken root in her mind. She wished it was because Voldemort sent her another dream, but it wasn’t. She didn’t like being scared. Being scared made her twitch and jump at small noises. It made her volatile and snap—like what had happened with Malfoy. 

Harriet rarely relied on other people. They had always let her down in the past and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Adults were idiots and children were immature. The thought of her freedom riding on the coattails of Charlie Weasley was daunting and made her want to curse someone—preferably another Slytherin. It wasn’t fair that they knew dark magic and she didn’t. It was a weak excuse and not one she would ever voice aloud, but it made her feel better.

* * *

“He said to meet him near the Forbidden Forest,” one of the twins said later that day, explaining the directions to get to the place where his older brother would be waiting.

Harriet laughed. Of course. Everything happened in, near, around, by, or over the Forbidden Forest. Why Dumbledore had given it that ridiculous name she would never understand. It only made teenagers want to go in it. He clearly didn’t understand the way youth thought if he figured it would make them stay away.

“Roger!” She forced a smile. Curfew was at nine, which meant that she had three more hours to waste. Then she would need to wait another hour to make sure that her roommates were asleep before she snuck out. It would be horrible if Hermione woke up again and tried to give her a lecture. Four hours and she would know if Charlie would play the knight to her damsel in distress.

“I’m George.”

Harriet sometimes forgot that the twins hadn’t been raised as Muggles. They always caught on quick when she turned a popular wizard phrase or did something they thought was bizarre. “It means I understand.” She hadn’t had to explain anything to them in over a month. Either they were getting more fluent in Muggle speak, or she was using more wizarding terms. Not that it mattered. She always spoke properly when she needed to. She knew that Fred and George didn’t care if she was the perfect pureblood lady. They were friends and that was all that mattered.

The wait was horrible. And she wished she had a time-turner so she could go forward in time. Was that even possible, or did it only go backwards? 

Dumbledore talked about the honor and glory that each champion was bringing to their school—sending more glares toward her. Great. It wouldn’t even matter by tomorrow anyway, though, since she would be bonded to Charlie Weasley—hopefully—and she wouldn’t even have to do anything. 

After Dumbledore finished his ramblings, Madame Maxime gave a  _ long _ history of the Tournament and all of the deaths and unfortunate maiming. Harriet wasn’t sure if she was trying to scare everyone to death or if she thought it was exciting. She was French, so it could have been either. And then finally, Karkaroff talked about each champion. He spent over thirty minutes regaling the entire audience with Viktor Krum’s achievements and prowess. No contest on who Karkaroff thought would win, and Harriet had to agree.

When it was time to head for bed, Harriet was one of the first heading toward the tower. If she had to listen to another word about the blasted tournament she would start hexing people. And she couldn’t afford to spend time in detention or be summoned to the Headmaster’s office. She forced herself to half-heartedly start a Transfiguration essay on why turning a hedgehog into a pin cushion would help her in life, but ended up doodling in the top right corner before she was three-quarters of the way done. When she was finished, it looked like Neville Longbottom’s prized cactus. She was oddly pleased.

It had distracted her from the thought of rejection. Why would Charlie want to bond with her? She was friends with Fred and George so that might be a plus in her favor, but she had only spoken to him once. Right before the Quidditch World Cup, when everything went to hell in a hand basket. He seemed nice enough, and he was certainly more handsome than many other wizards that she could name. But was his magic powerful enough? Her magic seemed to think so, and that would have to be enough.

_ “It’s time. Go now.” _

Harriet threw on her blackest cloak and then her Invisibility Cloak for extra protection. The teachers would probably be patrolling the halls double time due to all the students from the other schools. Dumbledore didn’t trust them, because they were only allowed in the school during mealtimes. It was stupid. Why host a competition between three schools that were suspicious of each other?

Harriet walked out of the common room and shut the painting softly so the Fat Lady wouldn’t raise the alarm, though she was so drunk she probably wouldn’t have even been able to open her eyes. The Fat Lady was a horrible defense against intruders. She was either gossiping with the vapid Violet, sleeping, or asleep  _ and _ drunk. 

It took her over forty-five minutes to get to the spot George told her about. Mrs. Norris had caught her scent and followed her for a while. Harriet locked her in an empty classroom and placed a silencing spell on the door. Mr. Filch wouldn’t be able to find her until morning.

“George said you wanted to talk to me.”

Harriet startled at the quiet voice behind her. Was he trying to kill her? Wait, she was wearing her Invisibility Cloak. How did he know she was here? She pushed down the hood and stared at him. 

He was just as handsome as Harriet remembered, though maybe more so because she was old enough to appreciate his looks now. The hair that Molly ordered him to cut was even longer and pulled back with a hair tie. She was surprised when she felt the urge to run her fingers through it. His brown eyes were serious and held an otherworldly quality that Harriet couldn’t quite pin down. His body was muscled and wiry, and she knew that he would be a spectacular duelist. There was a burn on his right arm and teeth marks on his left hand. An earring in the shape of a fang hung from his right ear.

“Your magic said you had a request,” he said, answering her unspoken question after she was done ogling at him. 

She had heard the voice frequently, but no one had ever been able to hear it before. 

She smiled when she realized that her magic had voluntarily reached out for Charlie Weasley. Her magic trusted him. Harriet needed to do the same. Harriet’s magic hadn’t agreed to participate in the tournament and they both wanted out. 

“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet,” she blurted. Maybe she should have tried to find a more elegant way of telling him about her problem, but she couldn’t think of one. She needed to bond with him or she would die. She didn’t have enough magical knowledge to win the tournament, and the contract would force her to participate in each task. Now wasn’t a time to mince words. “Have you read the rules?”

She didn’t want to explain everything to him because it was long, boring, and it would take too much time, but she needed him to know and understand everything before he agreed—hopefully agreed. Charlie continued to stare at her as if she were a new dragon he had found and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, yet. He was listening though, so at least she succeeded somewhere in her attempts.

“I have. I assume that you’re talking about the subsection mentioning bonded females that haven’t birthed an heir are forbidden to participate in the tournament.”

“Great! You know about it. Now, I’m a very blunt person and I know I’m forgetting billions of pureblood rules and whatnot, but my life is at stake and I want to keep living.” Harriet knew Fred told her not to mention her death as the reason why she wanted to bond with him, but what other reason would she give? They hardly knew each other! It would be easier if Charlie knew she needed his help and protection rather than have him think she had been pining for him. “So I was wondering if you were betrothed, or promised, or any of that rot to anyone.”

An amused smirk followed her rambling. “No. I’m not. I’m currently unattached.”

“Awesome! Would you be willing to save me from certain death by becoming my bonded? I know it’s sudden, but I’m kinda on a deadline. You can do it, right? You have enough magical power to overthrow the contract?”

Charlie laughed and Harriet shivered at the dark quality. She could see that presence again. It was foreign and fascinating. She wanted to discover what brought that sparkle into his eyes and why he had that smirk on his face. What secrets did he hold? Harriet already knew that Charlie was magically powerful, and his reaction to her question confirmed it. But it wasn’t simply that. There was something else just out of reach.

“What do you know about dragon  _ keepers _ , Harriet?”

Harriet blinked at the segue. “Nothing,” she admitted. There was no use in bull-crapping a response. He would know if she was lying or not and it would be a waste of time.

“Dragons are considered dark creatures. Their classification by the Ministry says that they are even more lethal than werewolves, which is why only a few countries allow dragon reserves. Dragons are able to think, unlike werewolves who turn into mindless savages, and they use magic which is highly different from our own. Though countless people have  _ tried  _ studying them, most of what is printed in books and taught in schools is made up. Dragon keepers are keepers in name only. We are not in charge of controlling a dragon or making it domestic. We live among them as their servants, in a way.

“Days before its death, a dragon selects a keeper from the group of witches and wizards living at the reserve and bestows its magic unto them if it finds someone worthy. Few have been given the honor. Using a dark ritual, known only to a dragon, a dragon keeper drinks the dragon’s blood as soon as it has taken its last breath. The blood allows the foreign magic to merge with the witch or wizard and transforms them into an entirely new being.”

Harriet tried to wrap her mind around the information. Charlie had the magic from a dragon! Molly would faint if she found out! Harriet laughed when she realized that his pure, light family had no idea that their son had dark magic. Maybe Fred and George had an inkling, but she doubted they truly understood. 

“A dragon mates for life, Harriet. No spell will be able to break it. Nothing is stronger than a magical creature bonding.”

Harriet didn’t love him, and she would be bonded to Charlie Weasley until she died. He had the magic from a dark creature and no one knew except for her. 

_ “He will protect you.” _

“I know,” she said in response to his question and her magic’s statement. She had a way out, and she wasn’t going to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass her by. She was going to be bonded to a magical creature! How cool was that?

Charlie removed the earring and crushed it into powder with a few whispered words. “Fang of the dragon. Magic of the keeper willingly given.” His dark magic burst forth and surrounded her, and the remains of the ashes of the fang rested in his hand. “Blood of the lover forcibly taken.” He removed a knife from his boot and cut the palm of her hand, holding her bleeding palm over his. The spell grew in power and strength as blood intertwined with the fang and his magic and became one.

A black and red thread grew thicker in her mind until it became unbreakable. She gasped as his magic spilled into her, like water from a broken dam. It flooded her until she felt full, but it kept streaming in. She felt it overflow and wash over her, cleansing and replacing her weak light magic with something more powerful and dark. Her magical core rejoiced and hummed underneath the pounding force of his magic. She was finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr if you’re interested.


End file.
